


In Retrospect, the Signs Were All There

by DrDiabolical



Series: Reasonable [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: ANBU root - Freeform, Abuse of Authority, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Assassination, BAMF on a Leash, Censorship, Collars, Creepy Shimura Danzou, Dark Namizake Minato, Gen, Hatake Kakashi-centric, Light World Building, Namikaze Minato Lives, POV Hatake Kakashi, Politics, Power Imbalance, Propaganda, Temporarily Mute Character, Traumatised, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unreliable Narrator, Young Hatake Kakashi, and does not care about politics, as in Kakashi is 14, metaphorically. I made that tag up. Kakashi is a BAMF but he is being manipulated, treating people like objects
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:15:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26615815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrDiabolical/pseuds/DrDiabolical
Summary: On the night of the Nine-tails' rampage, Minato's wife and son both die. The Third Great Shinobi War just ended. The political scene is tense. Konoha is without a Jinchuuriki.Minato makes some choices and a grand plan begins to unfurl.The village Kakashi grew up in is changing - and he's right in the middle of it all.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi & Namikaze Minato
Series: Reasonable [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1907131
Comments: 25
Kudos: 117





	1. Everything is Okay

**Author's Note:**

> Unreliable Narrator Alert: Kakashi is fourteen and not politically driven at this point in his life. The signs are all there though, hence the title. 
> 
> I have planned three parts to this story and this is part one (let's call that first piece the prologue). The entire narrative has been more or less plotted out but only Part One has it down to the exact number of chapters. Although, depending on how things go, that could change. 
> 
> I have plans to rewrite this series into one long fic when it's complete, but that will be in the far and distant future.

He didn’t grip the table as tightly as he used to. 

It was an idle observation, one he made as he tried to slip back into his trance. ‘Tried’ because he couldn’t, the shift had been long and the wooden desk wasn’t comfortable. Instead, he turned his half-red gaze to the Hokage portraits, at Hiruzen Sarutobi’s middle-aged face looking over him benignly. He fought the urge to yawn as he contemplated the man’s pictured expression, the afternoon had been unusually busy and the silent chakra drain on his eye was beginning to take its toll.

Case in point, the door shut and Kakashi blinked, whoever had been talking to Minato had left. Civilian, most likely, given the use of the actual door. Either that or a low ranking ninja or a ninja making a show of respect. Minato was quite lax on his entrance policy, something which Kakashi had learned only recently. When Minato had first donned the hat, Kakashi had been making a name for ‘Hound’ in ANBU and they hadn’t interacted much outside of his newfound persona. Not until Minato had summoned him, Kakashi Hatake, not Hound, two weeks ago and his absence contrasted starkly against the afternoon-to-evening shadow he had become. 

“Sarutobi, hm?” Minato said as he neatened his desk, shuffling papers and setting aside his pen. As was routine, Kakashi waited, his feet gently knocking against the desk support as he came back to himself. What had at first been novel in its strange slightly panic-inducing way had become boring as he grew used to riding side-along to the reality of being Hokage. While it had never been Kakashi’s ambition to be Hokage - it would be plain wrong to steal a dead man’s dream - he was more certain than ever before that he would never take the hat. Minato-sensei was the Yellow Flash, Killer of a Thousand Iwa Nin and Slayer of the Nine-Tailed Fox. Hokage Minato was the Writer of Paperwork, Sweet-Talker of Council Members, and Mediator of Petty Clan Disputes. 

It was honourable, if only because he had given up so much. 

Along that same line of thinking, Kakashi seemed to have been missing out on missions ever since picking up his new desk-job. A chill slid down his spine as the thought occurred to him that perhaps Minato was prepping him to be Hokage in the distant future. By the Shodai, if Minato turned around one day and revealed that had been the motive behind his odd use of Kakashi, he’d have to leave the village. After all, he had a very hard time refusing his Hokage’s orders, but he would run if pushed too far. 

“He was roughly the same age as me when he took this position,” Minato carried on, oblivious to Kakashi’s missing-nin backup career planning, “I wonder, at my age, what he would have thought of my plans.” He rose from his chair and patted Kakashi’s shoulder as he passed him. Following the last two weeks’ unspoken ritual, Kakashi prepared to leave through the window when Minato caught his wrist. 

“Come here, Kakashi,” he said and gently tugged him towards the center of the room. Kakashi levelled an unimpressed look at Minato as he was lifted by his armpits, his toes only a centi-metre from the ground.

Displeased, Minato tutted and set him down. “You’re still too light, Kakashi,” he gently admonished, “not to worry, where you fall, I will pick you up,” he ruffled his hair, cheery yet the words felt oddly weighted, “follow me.”

Closing his given eye, Kakashi inhaled as the transition fell into place and the chakra drain lessened. Never did the drain ever truly stop, he couldn’t deactivate the Sharingan, but it slowed to a light trickle when he put the eye to rest. Apparently, he took too long because Minato placed a guiding hand on his right shoulder blade and was steering him out into the corridor before he was fully adjusted.

Just like the first night, they didn’t talk to each other but Minato had plenty to say to those they passed by. He even stopped when they were out in the street and a civilian - Kakashi sniffed the air subtly, _vegetables and salt, grocer_ , the scent aligned with what had last lingered in the office - managed to hold him in conversation for several minutes. 

“Haruka Minami,” Minato informed him when the civilian was out of earshot, somehow always picking up on when Kakashi didn’t and did want an explanation and getting the two signals mixed up, “he recently bought a couple of the food stores in the central marketplace, combined with what he already had in his possession, he currently holds the largest share of the produce market.”

He was important, then? On a civilian level, at least. Kakashi had never really had an interest in economics beyond what was forced upon him in order to secure the Hatake compound while moving himself into a separate apartment. He didn’t have much of an interest in most things that concerned the Hokage, he found after spending so much time by Minato’s side. Two weeks was far beyond enough to glimpse at all the different queries and cases that were brought to his desk before learning to dismiss them upon sighting familiar kanji. Kakashi didn’t know why Minato bothered with the Minami guy when he had a village of shinobi to think about. 

Kakashi hesitated as they came to the junction where their paths diverged but Minato pushed him along in the direction of the Uzumaki residence. Or would it be the Namikaze residence? With Kushina gone, were there even any Uzumaki left?

That cold question hung from his bones as they neared the first wooden steps of the path that mottled the woods housing the Uzumaki residence. Soft padding interspaced with the clacking of sandals against redwood joined the ambience as they followed the path denoted by patches of panelling that were slowly being reclaimed by the forest floor. Despite its name, few ‘true’ Uzumaki had lived in the residence other than Kushina and Lady Mito, although it had once hosted several Senju and housekeeping staff. Or so Kushina had told him; when Kakashi had first visited there had only been Kushina and Minato. No one had been paid to tend to the path for some time. 

The moon hung high in the sky, dappling the surroundings in silver hues. Approximately seven metres from him, an owl hooted and shuffled its wings. Scents of the woods, damp grass, moss and fur drifted up his nose, the particularly disgusting smell of fox dung scrunching up his face at one point. 

After a short trek, the trees broke into a clearing and the path became more solid, wooden steps leading to a traditionally styled clan manor propped up by half-a-metre foundation supports. Influences from Uzushio were evident in the timber cladding designed to withstand salt air and the alcove that would have overlooked the seafront instead of the dense trees that crowded it. Otherwise, the same shoji screens and fusuma that could be found in any of the Konoha clan buildings made up the bulk of the design along with the gently curved eaves. Kushina had liked to talk about those little reminders of home when she was in a more solemn mood. Thinking about her and the house she used to live in, he started to feel similarly. 

He hadn’t visited the house since the proceedings of the mass funeral. That day, he’d had to dig through his father’s old clothes to find something formal that fit him which just made everything a little worse. He’d met Minato on the engawa under the pretence of acting as his guard despite the lack of ANBU mask and attire. Genma had the same idea as well and the two of them had silently walked with Minato to the memorial stone and the newly carved columns upon columns of names. 

Most of the doors were closed and sealed shut now, he noted as they walked deeper inside of the building, subtle inked circles sat where the doors met their frames. Knowing Minato and his skill, he imagined they somehow preserved the contents, something Kakashi wished he’d been able to do all those years ago. On the rare occasion that he had to visit the Hatake compound, everything was thick with dust and it wasn’t uncommon for him to find a collection of little critters that had claimed the place as their home. Kakashi didn’t begrudge them for it, it was unoccupied and they didn’t steal like he knew some unidentified raiders had. 

Minato took him to the kitchen and pushed him into a seat at the small table. Through the door adjacent to the counters, Kakashi knew there was a dining room with a befittingly long dining table but he preferred the smaller kitchen table. They’d never been able to fit the whole of team seven on the kitchen table and sitting at the dining table with the empty seats that used to be filled by three others didn’t feel right. 

He could remember Minato humming as he did the dishes. Kushina was generally the one who cooked, her love for ramen had translated into a desire to make her own meals, first ramen and then other dishes at Kakashi’s and the rest of team seven’s behest. He didn’t hum now as he read from the crinkled pages of a home-made recipe collection, Kushina’s jagged handwriting visible over his shoulder, and stuck his tongue out just slightly as he concentrated on following the instructions. 

Kakashi entertained himself by resting his eyes and letting his thoughts drift, head tilted back against the low backrest of the chair. He’d been at the bookstore that morning, looking for something on dojutsu since the Uchiha didn’t even want to look in his direction, when a book in the civilian section had caught his eye. It was on the discount shelf and it had felt oddly familiar, something about a gutsy shinobi. He hadn’t picked it up because it was obviously superfluous civilian crap, fairy tales about shinobi always left a sour taste in his mouth since they never compared to the gritty reality he lived, but it had made him pause.

“You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?” He cracked an eye open at Minato’s voice and the steam of a hot meal curled around his chin. Salt-grilled saury, huh, he really liked that. Minato sat across from him with his own plate, the places where there were usually two other chairs empty. 

“No, Hokage-sama,” Kakashi said and shrugged, “just tired.” He’d been sleeping earlier and earlier with all of this eye use, although he was starting to adjust and grudgingly return to his five-hour sleep schedule. 

“Don’t call me that in my own home, Kakashi, you make me feel like a stranger,” Minato said as he tucked into his fish, “Minato is fine, Minato-sensei if you must, I know we haven’t seen much of each other in the past year but you’ll be seeing a lot of me now, I have plans.”

Kakashi held in a sigh as Minato yet again didn’t elaborate. Okay. If they were dropping the formality, then Kakashi could drop the thin veneer of polite respect he’d been trying to uphold for the past two weeks. It wasn't hard to fall into old patterns, even if there were several missing pieces. “Plans? Is Minami buying the fishmongers next?” He said dryly. 

From what Kakashi had been paying attention to, the bulk of Minato’s self-appointed work had very little to do with shinobi missions and ranks. He seemed to have taken it upon himself to get involved in civilian matters, something which Kakashi had been under the impression was dealt with by the civilian council who only brought up the most important issues to the Hokage. Part of the reason why Kakashi had gotten bored so quickly was that it was all so mundane. Even petty drama between clans was more interesting. 

“No, he already has his hands in the marine imports so he doesn’t need to,” Minato said, neglecting the question that had come before the assumption. Damn.

The food wasn’t the best but it was decent, cooked not by someone who had a passion for it but had learned to feed himself. Kakashi should follow by example, but frozen and instant food suited him just fine and he did cook properly at least twice a week. It was enough to keep him functioning and that was what mattered, he wasn’t going to waste pointless time fixing a system that already worked.

They ate in relative silence, chopsticks clinking, until they were both done and Minato walked him to the genkan so that he could put his sandals back on and leave. It was nice, Minato and Kakashi had never had much to say to each other, others had filled the silence and their absence was hard to ignore, but it was still nice. He readily agreed when Minato asked him to come by on Mondays and Fridays for dinner so that he could at least see to it that Kakashi ‘ate something of substance’ regularly. 

There was a smile under his mask that crinkled his eye, bared only for the forest dwellers to see, and an old tension slid from his shoulders like a weighted coat worn so long he’d forgotten what it felt like to walk in just the clothes beneath it. He still moved noiselessly and opened the door to his apartment with a gentle hand and tugged the bedsheets soundlessly over his lying form, but he felt lighter. 

Minato really was coming back to him, wasn’t he?


	2. A Pale Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danzo enters the field. 
> 
> Mild Trigger Warning(s) in the End Notes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got rid of the chapter count because I realised that I wanted to merge a few chapters and separate others. Just know that this entire instalment has been planned out and I estimate that it will be 15+ chapters at the very least.

Another week, a challenge with Gai, several memorial visits, and two dinners passed before the first event of any interest occurred: council member Danzo Shimura arrived precisely on time for his appointment with the Hokage and ordered Kakashi to leave. 

Minato refused. 

“Just ignore him,” Minato said, waving a dismissive hand at Danzo’s inquiry as to why Kakashi was perched on his desk, said desk-percher zoning back in as he realised he was the topic of conversation. He had grown used to being talked around, a piece of the scenery. People often gave him confused looks at first but those were quickly dropped by the time the second meeting came around, if there was a second one. Funnily enough, civilians didn’t even question his presence. He chalked that up to them being on the periphery of the shinobi world and accepting everything at face value because ‘that's just how those shinobi folk are.’

“Ignore him? This is sensitive information, Namikaze, not for just any shinobi to hear,” Danzo said sternly, gaze lingering on Kakashi for a long moment. While he couldn’t pinpoint the specific subject of his gaze, Kakashi got the sudden urge to ask if something was on his face. However, he didn’t give in to the temptation, he pointedly looked up to the hokage portraits and pretended he wasn’t there at all. While Minato had never explicitly stated it, Kakashi knew that his role wasn’t to be a part of the meetings but rather an accent to the setting. He still wasn’t entirely sure to what purpose he served but it was clearly working since Minato hadn’t dismissed him. Although, if Kakashi didn’t get a mission soon he was going to go stir crazy. 

“You shouldn’t worry so much Danzo! Honestly, Kakashi has been under my charge since he was five years old, he’s _very_ well trained,” there was a slight conspiratorial edge to Minato's smile. “I won’t be changing my mind,” he said brightly and settled his intertwined hands on his desk, leaning forward invitingly. 

The lines on Danzo’s face shifted from indignation to irritation as he acquiesced to Minato’s conditions. Kakashi had to suppress a shiver as Danzo shot one last calculating look in his direction before following suit, acting as though Kakashi wasn’t in the room. He pulled off the impression the best of all so far, even those who had grown used to the oddity that was Kakashi’s side job gave him a cursory glance once or twice. To Danzo, it appeared that he may as well have been a houseplant.

Nevertheless, his words were hidden by a shroud of obfuscation and indirect meanings, “while I appreciate your enthusiasm for my work - an acceptance I couldn’t have hoped to have received from Hiruzen, may he rest in peace - there are still ways in which we could protect the village further that perhaps you would not be as willing to endorse.”

“If you didn’t think there was a chance that I would, I don’t think you would have brought it up to me at all,” Minato replied, his happy-go-lucky manner betraying none of the severity of the implied situation that Kakashi suspected it held. In contrast, Nara Shikaku hadn’t glossed over his words when discussing the high-security details of the jounin command earlier, although he did hum when Minato’s answer to when Kakashi would come back into the fold was an indefinite ‘soon’. Kakashi hadn’t known that his leave from active duty had been official until then and came to the realisation that he must only skim the surface of the Hokage’s duties in his time at Minato’s side if he was missing details like that. 

Danzo smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile, so Kakashi stopped paying so much attention to his peripheral view of him. “Indeed, I shall cut to the chase then, I wish to retrieve my former head researcher from his impromptu sabbatical. I believe that, under appropriate supervision, he could contribute much more to the village than he already has.” Whatever that was, it sounded dodgy, but Kakashi lacked the contextual knowledge to confirm how shady the proposed operation was. 

From what little interaction they had had, Kakashi knew that Danzo had airs about him of greater-goods and mystery, the kind that came from living so long as a ninja. He was reportedly one of the most loyal to Konoha, the extent of that loyalty boundless. Kakashi wondered just what exactly that meant for his will of fire and the heated decisions it would prompt him to make. Kakashi was rash in the field and had nearly lost his head to recklessness on more than one occasion, although he couldn’t completely kid himself into thinking his ‘dedication to the completion of the mission regardless of the risks’ smoothly translated to 'dedication to the village'. How different would things be if he was as loyal as a man like Danzo? Not at all, possibly, but the concept gave him something to chew on as his shift dragged on.

“Hmm, I won’t deny the merits of your proposal,” Minato said after a few moments of contemplation before leaning back into his chair, decision made. “However, I also cannot deny the risks. Provide me with the means to eliminate the risks and the rest I’ll leave to you.”

“Understood, Hokage-sama,” Danzo dropped the informality he had picked up in his earlier irritation, leaving the room at a sedate pace, his posture revealing neither that he was happy with the conclusion of the meeting nor that he was dissatisfied. If Kakashi had to guess, he’d say a bit of both.

“Oh!” Minato exclaimed just as Danzo’s hand wrapped around the handle of the office door. He paused and turned his head towards them, body angled to leave. “I have a favour to ask,” he scratched at his neck sheepishly. 

“A favour or an order?” Danzo replied, slowly shifting to face them. Understandably, he seemed a little irritated at having been called back despite the meeting having reached its end. Minato had a bit of a habit of doing that, the veteran shinobi treated the behaviour with fond exasperation, the civilian women found it endearing while the younger shinobi were almost always thrown off balance. Danzo struck out his own category: gravely displeased. 

“Oh, well, if you have to be like that, it’s an order,” Minato said with a small laugh that did nothing to lighten Danzo’s mood. “I’d like Kakashi to train with your division once a week, I think your methods will benefit him greatly with what’s to come.”

All at once, Kakashi was promoted from house plant to shinobi as the focus of the conversation and Danzo’s acute attention was placed on him. He knew not to question his Hokage when in the presence of others, Kakashi had a role to fulfill outside of their bi-weekly dinners that he didn’t completely understand but knew how to play nonetheless, but he couldn’t help but send a questioning look at Minato’s side profile.

Meanwhile, Minato maintained that his conversation with Danzo was a two-player game, “you can send one of your shinobi to pick him up when you’ve decided a time and place, his schedule is free for the next week. Do pick a day and stick to it, though, I have plans for him.”

Danzo’s sharp gaze switched from Kakashi to Minato and analysed him, Minato’s cheery attitude unfaltering, before speaking, “understood, Hokage-sama.” 

Meeting actually over now - Minato never pulled his spontaneous idea routine more than once - Danzo’s hand twisted the doorknob and he left the office. 

“So, Kakashi,” Minato turned to him, a little more upbeat than usual, “we’re going to have a nice conversation over dinner about a little something called Root and what I’ll be needing you to report back to me.”

* * *

A few days after the dinner, over which he learned what he suspected was a highly abridged history on shadow kages and hidden truths, he next heard of Root while he was feeding his ninken. 

A chakra signature lit up behind him and all five of his dogs stood to attention in the same moment that Kakashi whirled around and activated his Sharingan, only to hiss and snap it shut within seconds. Through the blur of his watering right eye, a figure crouched on his apartment’s windowsill with an ANBU mask yet the rest of his attire didn’t match the uniform gathering dust in Kakashi’s wardrobe. 

“Danzo-sama requests your presence,” the figure said and Kakashi’s posture uncoiled somewhat, his ninken following suit. No movement followed, the Root agent remained on one knee, masked face staring ahead impassively. 

Kakashi nodded and the agent rose into a neutral stance before taking off in one of the quietest body flickers that he had ever witnessed. Not the most difficult to track, though, but he sensed that was rather the point since the agent hadn’t told him where Danzo was waiting for him. 

Several leaps across rooftops, jumps between branches and body flickers later, he stood in a secluded clearing that seemed innocent enough until the agent pressed forwards and made a sign. Subtle rumbling denoted the shifting of earth as a small hole yawned open directly in front of the closest tree, its gnarled roots intertwined with a metal ladder that descended into darkness. 

Sparing no time, the agent slipped down the ladder as soon as the terraformation was complete and Kakashi was quick to follow. The moment his head ducked beneath the grass, the ceiling reinstated itself and light bloomed below him. His sandals clinked on metal flooring and he backed away from the ladder to take in the length of the underground tunnel. In the distance, he registered the sound of errant water droplets and the scuttling of small creatures. Stench was not so much of a problem as it was simply present but not pervasive, the musk of damp earth, old rust and poor ventilation filtering through his mask. 

Upon reaching the end of the corridor, the agent stood aside and melded into the darkness cast by the balconies above the exit. A single metal strip struck out against the endless pit ahead of him lined by hip-height railings begging for someone to overbalance themselves and fall to their death. The path parted like the tongue of a snake to wrap around the brutalist architecture of the pipes that strung themselves inordinately across and up the space, and reached a close at two identical doorways. The tunnel must have taken him down a languid incline since the ceiling of this room was far beyond the limits of the grassy clearing he’d come from, either that or they were below a small mountain or an aspirational hill.

Danzo tapped his cane on the conjunction between the two split paths and strode towards him, none of the weathered ambling Kakashi associated with him present. A glance upwards gave Kakashi a glimpse of the agents lining the balconies and pipes, the only thing giving them away was the gleam of the porcelain masks in the lowlight. He assumed it was an intentional reveal given how well the original agent had hidden from Kakashi before he had arrived in his apartment. An intimidation tactic. Or pre-emptive security. Most likely both. 

The Danzo the rest of the village knew was a pale shadow of the strong figure looming over him now. 

“Where’s your Sharingan, boy?”

Kakashi wasn’t sure if he had the capacity to activate Obito’s eye completely, in around thirty minutes or so he would be asleep on a regular day. But the lines in Danzo’s face were thick with shadows, the indeterminate light source coming from somewhere behind him. Kakashi was at the complete mercy of the Sandaime’s Shadow Hokage and he had a report to make to the true Yondaime. 

He opened his eye long enough to watch Danzo smile greedily before stumbling backwards, hands clasping his eyelids shut. “Overuse,” he explained hoarsely and blearily looked up at Danzo with his original eye. Like before, the darkness clouded his features, but Kakashi couldn’t imagine that he was pleased. 

“I didn’t ask,” Danzo said curtly, “it is decided, then, your first lesson will be on speaking in turn. Follow me.” His cane struck the ground with each step he took, echoing in the relative silence of the suspended walkway. Keeping him outside of his blindspot, Kakashi fell into step a metre behind him. Danzo did not appear worried despite the trained assassin dogging his footsteps but Kakashi didn’t think he would be either in his position. From what little he had seen so far and what Minato had told him, he knew the watching agents weren’t regular shinobi, far from it. They were unmarked ANBU. 

The brutalist aesthetic was not limited to the chamber they left, it followed them through the corridor and down the stairs, marked by the desaturated glow of humming headlights intermixed with lanterns, exposed wiring, and pipes. Steam hissed from the occasional valve and more than one light flickered and fizzed. Electricity was not a commodity of the rich in Konoha but he hadn’t known that the wires had spanned this far out. He wasn’t even sure they were still within the village perimeter. 

He caught porcelain faces in the dark spaces between flickers but he couldn’t ascertain if his exhaustion was playing with his senses, not without the Sharingan to parse his vision.

An unease crept across his spine the further he went with each turn and door they passed and he wondered what Minato would do if Kakashi simply disappeared tonight. Cry, maybe? Although Minato had lost everyone else already, Kakashi wasn’t sure he had any tears left to shed for him.

No. His fingers clenched. Minato had devised this meeting, even if Danzo had taken control of the time and place. Minato would know who to blame and that was too much of a risk for Danzo to take. 

He hoped. 

The cold chaffing on his tired nerves didn’t do much to soothe his morbid contemplations. 

They arrived at their destination in a featureless box room notable only for the rough-hewn desk and two chairs inside. To say the least, it was an anticlimactic conclusion to their twisting journey through the depths of Root and the room was dusty with disuse. Kakashi assumed it was a power play, there would have certainly been rooms just as applicable earlier on in their walk for whatever purpose Danzo had in mind. 

“Sit,” Danzo said but did not take a seat himself, opting to stand before the desk with both hands resting on his cane. ‘Sit’, not ‘take a seat’ or ‘make yourself comfortable’. Not that Kakashi had expected either of those phrases but it felt worth remembering. Minato liked little meaningless details.

Kakashi sat on the uncomfortable chair and immediately became aware of the angle between him and Danzo, his head tilting back to meet his eye. Intimidation, intimidation, intimidation. It was starting to stick to Kakashi’s skin like a rash.

He didn’t like this mission at all. 

“You used to be an outspoken and brash boy. I expected more resistance. But you are quiet and you do as you are told,” Danzo’s face was hard to read if only because it looked like it had set in his old age, forever stern. “Not quite,” he amended, “you do as Namikaze tells you, I have no illusions pertaining to where your loyalty lies, boy, but Namikaze and I have mutual interests, so it will do.”

An assurance. Some of the nervous energy left his system at the confirmation that Danzo was not blind to the hand with which Minato kept Kakashi close. 

“Your age is not ideal but not all hope is lost, your file is illustrious and I have plenty to work with, we’ll make a good loyal shinobi out of you yet,” Danzo smiled and Kakashi was starting to realise that none of his smiles were nice. 

“I _am_ a loyal shinobi… and a good o-” pain flared, white and sharp across his cheek and blinding his already closed eye. 

That was… he’d been backhanded. He hadn’t been backhanded before. Slapped, yes, by a girl he rejected bluntly when he was eleven, but never backhanded. Backhands were for discipline and Kakashi liked to think he was a disciplined shinobi. 

“I shall revise my initial assessment, the impetuous attitude you held in your youth has not been completely snuffed out. I don’t know what Namikaze lets you get away with under his purview but listen to me now when I tell you that I will not be nearly as lenient as him for I will not say it again. I am not Namikaze Minato and I hold no sentimentalities regarding the value of your life and your sob stories. There are two reasons behind why I am even bothering with you right now, chiefly that I am acting under the Hokage’s orders. You best learn quickly and pull yourself together or else there will be graver consequences than a quick pet to your cheek.”

Dazedly, Kakashi nodded and then shook himself back into full awareness, only to regret his decision. Not only was he exhausted, cold, and up past his biologically appointed bedtime, but he was also in pain. Kakashi had been stabbed, cut, punched, burnt and even fried by his own lightning jutsu on more than one occasion. Yet the implications the bruising of his face carried weighed more than the sharpest sting of kunai between flesh. 

“Good,” Danzo said and would have sounded patronising if the gravity in his voice wasn’t so genuine. “Today, I will take you to a healer but do not allow yourself to grow accustomed to this luxury. I will not waste resources on preventable mistakes,” he walked to the door and signalled for Kakashi to follow. “Then, we shall discuss our arrangement and the basics of what you should expect during your time here. Pay attention, I’m sure Namikaze will want your report to be as accurate as can be.”

Ah. He knew.

* * *

“And then…”

“And then, Kakashi?”

It was dark. Warm yellow slipped from the slightly ajar kitchen door and drew a fading line across the dining room floor, its linear path broken twice, once by the right corner of the dining table and a second time by Kakashi’s foot. Pale moonlight provided the otherwise deep blue surroundings with a subtle glow that haloed Minato’s hair and caught in the creases of his apron. Sconces lined the walls at even increments but they remained unlit, Minato had caught him before he’d made it to the kitchen and his mouth ran away with his report before either of them had the chance to light the candles or move to a more suitable location. 

_And then he hit me_. Five words. But his throat was dry and his vocal cords were static. Involuntarily, his hand strayed to his unblemished face, fingers feather-light against the freshly healed skin. He couldn’t fathom why it felt so poignant, he got into scrapes all the time whether that be on mission, training or from pushing himself too hard to try and best Gai. 

Calloused fingers closed around his smaller digits and Minato drew his hand away from his face and crouched so that they were eye-level. “Did he touch your face?”

“He hit my face,” Kakashi corrected, able to vocalise his thoughts when given the framework, “for speaking out of turn.” He shrugged and slipped his hand out of Minato’s grip, letting it fall limply to his side as he carried on with the report. “His initial assumption of my character was wrong, he established th-”

“You had difficulty telling me that,” Minato abruptly interjected and Kakashi forced his gaze to lift from his chin to his eyes only for it to fall back again. “You’re having trouble reconciling that he used pain as a punishment,” his voice was almost… not quite awed but there was something close to curiosity or wonder in his words. Like he had just figured out the workings behind a seal that he knew how to use but hadn’t understood precisely why it worked up until this point. “And he punished you for a wrong you hadn’t known you’d committed, so there’s a good chance that it will happen again since you don’t know how to abide by the rules since you don’t know what the rules are. I already knew you used to live by the rules, Kakashi, unless there was something more important on the line. I think this might be one of the worst environments that Danzo could have created for you.”

Kakashi’s borrowed eye throbbed. 

“It’s okay, Kakashi,” Minato’s palm cupped his cheek and guided his head to look at him when Kakashi instinctively turned away. “You know I’ll never hurt you, right? Not like Danzo, he doesn’t have what’s best for you in mind, but I do, you know that, right? This is just for the mission, I wouldn’t let him treat you this way if it wasn’t important.”

Of course Kakashi knew that. Minato had never done anything to Kakashi that had hurt him, not intentionally. He could be forgiven for the times when he got carried away with himself and left Kakashi in the dark about what was going on, easily. And this _was_ for the mission, he just had to suck it up and soldier on. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that Minato might hurt him intentionally. “Obviously,” he huffed and stepped away, looking resolutely out the far window, “you don’t need to tell me that.”

“Good,” Minato said and Kakashi squawked as he ruffled his hair without warning. “Come on, we can carry on this conversation over… dinner… oh, oh no - I have no idea how long the oven has been on for!”

Minato rushed into the kitchen, barging through the door with enough force for it to whack the wall and nearly close itself. With a sniff, Kakashi grimaced as he confirmed that the food was definitely at least a little burnt. 

But, hey, homemade food beat instant noodles any day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning(s): A member of authority unexpectedly backhands Kakashi for speaking out of turn. LMK if you feel I missed anything.  
> \----  
> Kakashi and Rules, hm. I know that Obito's death is supposed to be the trigger for when he shucked his original rule-following ways but I can't imagine that the transition went like the flick of a switch, particularly with all the trauma that followed in the next year or so. He's in limbo here, between the desire to fall into old coping mechanisms (just follow the rules, that way you don't have to think, just do. That way you don't end up like Dad, that way you can't make the wrong call and kill your comrades) and the desire to live up to his dead friend's ideals. 
> 
> Minato has plans. Danzo also has plans. These plans are very different from each other. Currently, they appear to be heading in the same direction. Their goals are quite similar, but their motives and methods differ. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Check out my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/drdiabolical) if you'd like to see excerpts, updates, research, thoughts etc related to this fic


	3. Bittersweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minato takes Kakashi out for ramen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sat on this chapter for a couple of days, let's see... ah, four days according to my Tumblr.
> 
> I couldn't quite tweak it to my liking. Nevermind, I wrote the first part of the next chapter some time ago, it's at 1k but that's mostly the prelude. I imagine it's going to be a hefty one and it will become apparent why at the end of this chapter.
> 
> Also, I'm rephrasing my "trigger warnings" as "content warnings" after reading that tumblr post about squicks. I'll be warning for more than just triggers but also anything that is uncomfortable since its perfectly well and good to want to avoid those sorts of things even if they aren't triggering. 
> 
> Content Warnings in the End Notes, although this is a very light chapter.

Leaves found dance partners in dust swirling down the paths of wind currents and threatening to make him sneeze. Not wanting to agitate the nose further, he stopped kicking his legs in the evening air, letting them dangle over the ledge to gravity's weak pull. Sat on the roof of his apartment block, he had a view across the shinobi residential quarter painted in faintly orange hues as the sun slinked behind the horizon. For a small stretch of time, he was able to grasp a piece of quiet that allowed his tense body to relax to the scent of curry from apartment 3C, the scraggly lemon tree on the roof terrace left behind by a previous resident, and the general woody scent of Konoha. 

Pakkun lay curled up on his right basking in the orange sun. Next to him stood a little blue watering can with a henohenomoheji scratched onto the surface in childish scrawl. A dent he’d never bothered to fix warped the left eye and he could recall throwing a tantrum about something or other as a small child and flinging it at a pot of pink carnations. He couldn’t remember what the tantrum was about, but his dad’s crestfallen face upon seeing the broken pot and crushed flowers never left him. Odd, the moments a child’s memory decides to etch into the long term banks. Arbitrary too, he could remember passing money over to a cashier at an apothecary and the chipped pink of her painted nails just as clearly as the lines of his frown. 

The constant watch that Danzo had ascribed to him seemed to be taking a break. Although they were hard to identify, he was confident there were three of them. Two girls, one boy. Not two women and a man. Kakashi wasn’t sure if they were younger than him but they weren’t old. 

In their absence, he could sit down and just _not think_. Not think about the two recent Root sessions ~~I keep messing up, I can’t stop messing up, I can’t forget about it either because I can’t see the medic and Minato said not to go to the hospital so that I don’t rouse suspicion but I don’t want to constantly think about how I’m always fucking everything up every time I adjust my jaw or sit back~~ , not think about how he still hasn’t been given a mission ~~I don’t think I’m on ANBU anymore why would Minato pull me away from ANBU, I’m good at it, I’m _really fucking good_ at it, I could do missions in between this desk thing, Kami, I don’t even have a shift today, _so why?_~~ not think about anything. 

Just the scents, the cooling air, the lull between day and nightlife. Pakkun’s soft breaths, the feel of the wooden ledge beneath his hands, the gentle fluttering of his sleeves in the slight breeze. 

A breeze which kicked into gear and plastered his hair into his visible eye. His hand went to his weapon pouch and Pakkun jumped to his feet. Then, they both slipped out of their attack stances.

Minato sat on the ledge beside him, ankles gently knocking each other to the rhythm of the current as though he'd always been there, his face mostly peaceful as he looked on at the skyline but with a slight hint of mischief tugging at the left corner of his mouth. Minato kept sending him what Kakashi thought were supposed to be discrete glances, looking for a reaction. Kakashi was surely only going to disappoint, he had long since grown used to his Hokage’s particular mode of arrival before he had donned the hat. 

“Bored of the paperwork already, Sensei? I think you’re in too deep to quit now, Sarutobi-sama held the office just a bit longer than you have,” Kakashi said, willing himself to hold onto his security and peace. It shouldn’t be a difficult task given that Minato’s presence could only reassure him further of his state in the world, yet it was proving to be harder than expected.

“Not at all,” Minato leant back, his hands splayed out behind the small ledge to support him. His eyes lost their colour in the light, reflecting the evening sky instead of the daytime baby blue. 

Kakashi didn’t like the current… feeling in the air. Minato continued to give him those looks, as though there was something Kakashi was missing and that it was funny because he was missing it. Again, he thought of Kushina and her pranks, which returned his mind to the inception of Kakashi’s new _temporary_ lifestyle. Things hadn't made sense then, either.

Minato frowned into the continued silence and gave him a long unreadable look before he stuck his hand down the back of Kakashi’s shirt. Yelping both at the unexpected invasion of his immediate space and the sting of the bruises on his back, Kakashi unsuccessfully tried to eject the intrusion until Minato retracted his hand on his own volition, a familiar tag between his fingers. 

“You didn’t notice you had this on you,” he waggled the paper space-time anchor in the space between them before smoothing it onto the ledge. “I’ll admit it was discrete, but you should have noticed.”

… When had Minato even had the chance to place it? They hadn’t seen each other all day. He would have noticed if Minato had stuck his warm hand down his back at some point during the day, the contrast between their temperatures alone was a blaring signal. Or was Kakashi losing his touch after being out of action for a few weeks? He couldn’t be, could he?

“Hm,” Minato kicked his legs once with vigour before jumping up to stand, hands on his hips. Reminiscent of someone else. “It’s a lovely evening, I’m all caught up on my work, you’re not doing anything useful, let’s make the most of it!” He announced to the retreating sun, any traces of disappointment from before gone from his body and voice. 

Cautiously, Kakashi stood up as well, as did Pakkun, who seemed to have perked up at something Minato had said but didn’t mention what he thought of it, if anything. Kakashi glanced at the watering can beside Pakkun and then at the scraggly lemon tree. That should have been the first thing he did yet he’d squandered his time doing nothing. 

“I’ve got it, Boss, you have fun with the Hokage,” Pakkun took the watering can handle into his mouth and trotted over to the lemon tree without being asked. Good dog. More than good. Great dog. His mental shopping list gained the addition of ‘dog treats’. 

“Come on, you can’t laze around all day,” Minato winked. An hour wasted doing nothing… he should have been training or running Minato’s errands or reading or doing something productive. 

He didn’t have time to dwell on his feelings as Minato wrapped a secure arm around his shoulders and the world blurred around them. Never did the transition of the hiraishin feel smooth, always jolting his stomach and lurching him into vertigo. How Minato managed to make several consecutive jumps in the height of battle without stumbling was beyond Kakashi. Although, he could count the number of times he’d been transported by the jutsu on his hands and still have fingers to spare. Repetitive exposure would probably help. 

Vision spinning, Kakashi didn’t realise where they were until Minato dragged him underneath the partition and lifted him onto a chair. Unnecessarily, he would like to point out when his ears’ biological inclinometer realised he had solid footing. Or seating, rather. 

“Hokage-sama, what a pleasant surprise!” A vaguely familiar male voice exclaimed and Kakashi’s head snapped up to take in his surroundings before retreating to his usual slouch. Ichiraku’s Ramen hadn’t changed in the two years since he’d last visited. Teuchi was a jovial nondescript chef in his early thirties and had gotten on well with Kushina, his primary customer before Kakashi’s whole world went wrong.

“Oh, enough of that Teuchi-san, you’ve watched me make a fool of myself trying to impress Kushina too many times to hold that kind of respect for me,” Minato waved off the formality with good humour. 

A bittersweet expression overcame Teuchi’s face and his voice became more subdued, “ah, no, Hokage, you were a little awkward, but you were no fool... I do miss hosting your dates,” he stirred a ladle with one hand and tipped spice with another, “it sure is quiet without my favourite customer.” 

Something in Minato shifted and he looked to his intertwined hands on the counter, brushing his thumbs idly over each other, a gesture that felt vaguely familiar, “yes, it is.” Behind the curtains of his hair, his expression was hidden. 

Kakashi pulled at the hem of his shirt, fearing that a depressive silence would fall over the ramen stand when Teuchi saved them from the dark mood, “well, I’m sure you’re here for more than just my company, Hokage, and you brought your student- or is he your guard now? It’s been so long since I saw the two of you, you might have reintroduce yourself, kid,” his smile was warm and genuine, Kakashi couldn’t help but uncurl a little in its presence. 

“Kakashi Hatake,” he supplied dutifully. There was a social convention he was missing here, he knew, like there was something else he was supposed to say, some kind of greeting or comment, but he didn’t know what. His ability to work his way around the non-adrenaline fueled low stakes side of life was not something he had realised he was lacking in until after Obito and Rin died and were no longer there to act as a buffer between Kakashi’s very small pocket of life and the rest of society. 

If Teuchi was bothered by the misstep, he didn’t give any outward signs of it, “ah yes, I know you, number five with smoked eggplant, right?” He was already reaching behind the stall for whatever it was he needed to make his preferred dish before Kakashi confirmed with a nod. “And you, Hokage? Still a fan of shoyu?”

“Wow, for a moment there I thought _I’d_ forgotten my favourite, you’ve got an impressive memory Teuchi-san,” Minato replied, hair swept aside and sunny face on display, “shoyu ramen and a number six with smoked aubergine please.”

“Coming right up,” Teuchi turned more fully to the back of his stall, gathering the specific ingredients he needed and starting up the ramen cooking process. Kakashi didn’t know much about ramen, or cooking in general, but it always looked more complicated than he thought it would be. Definitely more complicated than the instant variety he was accustomed to.

“How has everything been around here lately? I feel like I’ve got a lot to catch up on,” Minato asked, prompting some surface-level musings from Teuchi that slowly evolved into a light conversation on the lives of the civilian sector, Teuchi’s friends, most of whom seemed to run their own food stalls or shops. 

Bored, Kakashi ran his eyes over the grain of the wooden table, following the lines for lack of anything better to do. Sounds filtered in around the conversation and he took note of his surroundings. People watching was a civilian hobby, Kakashi observed and profiled individuals and their potential threat. 

Nestled in the shadows between buildings, a small seafood restaurant and a dessert parlour, a figure was crouched on one of the thicker cables between the walls, close but not quite touching the telephone wires. The Root boy, Kakashi identified with a few surreptitious glances, was easier to spot in the streets than he was where Konoha was less dense. Not that it wasn’t difficult to notice him, Kakashi just happened to know what he was looking for down to the basic silhouette. He hadn’t seen the boy’s face or even his mask, but his form was becoming familiar. Kakashi had a keen grey eye and a keener red eye, the boy would have to try harder if he wanted to go completely unnoticed. 

“... oh, you know how it is, I can understand why Ikeda is annoyed but these things happen when you live in a shinobi village, if he can’t handle a few cracked roof tiles every now and again he’d be best taking his business elsewhere, I say, but I feel like I’m the only one who feels like that these days, maybe it’s because I grew up in the village and settled here knowing I’d be serving ninja, but that's hardly uncommon …”

Clocking that Kakashi had seen him, the boy retreated further into the shadows, hopping backwards until he was no longer visible. Calculating the distance between the two buildings to be around half a metre, it had to be a poor vantage point to go any further back from the opening. If Kakashi was him, he’d find another position. He probably had done.

Switching his focus from the pinpoint it had narrowed to when looking for the boy to the wider world, he realised that the street had become busier. Several civilians spoke in between bites in the fronts of restaurants and similar stalls to Ichiraku’s, sneaking clumsy glances at Minato with interested and often awed expressions. Of course, Minato was the Hokage. It had been like this before… everything, as well, he could remember. Whenever Minato wasn’t bogged down with his duties, he’d take the remains of team seven and Kushina out and expertly ignore the ogling looks he received.

Kakashi hadn’t liked it then and he didn’t like it now. Shinobi performed their best shrouded by darkness and away from prying eyes. Subterfuge did not thrive under the midday sun. 

The clinking of ceramic against wood lured Kakashi’s attention away from his souring mood and to the steaming bowl of ramen set before him. He let Minato give thanks and nodded along, waited for Minato to start eating and then broke his chopsticks apart. Smoked was not his favourite style of aubergine but it was the best that went with ramen, a dish which he didn’t feel either way about but aubergine could tip the scales in favour when added to anything. Almost anything, he wasn’t sure it could improve, say, mochi. Sweet mochi would take away from bitter aubergine and he was a strong believer in the idea that bittersweet was a taste that should never have been invented.

In contrast, Minato’s meal was plain. It wasn’t bad but there wasn’t anything particular about it. No extra toppings or personalisations. Kakashi guessed it suited him, Minato was uncomplicated like that. Everyone liked him, he wasn’t polarizing in preference, and he was a reliable choice. Did Kakashi know the intricacies of his thoughts and the reasoning behind everything he did? No. Not by a long shot. But Kakashi didn’t know what made shoyu broth taste like that or how the little swirls in the fishcakes were made either. 

Minato really should consider adding some aubergine, though.

“That was lovely, Teuchi-san, as always,” Minato said sometime later after the both of them had finished their meals and the conversation wound down. “What does it come to?”

“Oh, for the Hokage and his little guard? On the house!” Teuchi-san announced heartily and Kakashi bristled at the moniker, which prompted Minato to laugh at his expense and exacerbate the situation by slinging an arm around his shoulder and pointing out his disgruntlement like it was funny. It was one thing for Minato to ruffle his hair and tease him in his own home, but outside Kakashi had an unapproachable reputation and he intended to maintain it.

His foul mood prevailed all the way to the conjunction where his and Minato’s paths diverged, maybe to counterbalance Minato’s cheery attitude, maybe to spite him. However, it couldn’t hold its ground against the relief that flooded him upon hearing Minato’s next words.

“Oh, just before we say goodbye and I remind you to buy something to eat tomorrow that doesn’t come out of a box and tell you to get your eight hours of sleep and everything else, you know the routine, I want you to go to the mission desk tomorrow and pick something up. It’s about time you got back out there.”

Finally. He was going on a mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW(s): reference to recent past physical punishment, invasion of personal space  
> \---
> 
> Kakashi, taking time for yourself to relax is important, actually.
> 
> I'm hoping this series will essentially come into its own as I write, the style and whatnot is feeling a little, hm, undecided. I read it back and it doesn't feel like I'm the one who wrote it. Nevermind, I had to get this out sometime in the near future. 
> 
> Also, small bit of news: I made a casual side-blog. Still very naruto orientated, includes some information on what I'm up to fic wise as well as a spot of #narutoshitposting. Complete with an edgy carrd as well (that I unironically quite like right now though I'm sure I'll cringe at it in the future.) [@sirdiabolical](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/sirdiabolical)
> 
> Thanks for the comments and kudos so far, I really appreciate the encouragement. Sends the happy chemicals pinging across the synapses :P


	4. It's Painful When They So Clearly Led Lives Just As I Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi meets Iruka, has a brief encounter with Gai, and goes on a mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer than usual - 4k this time. It was going to be longer but I thought it came to its natural completion as a chapter and carrying on with the plot here would take away from the suspense. 
> 
> I haven't written an action scene in a while, fingers crossed I did alright regardless. 
> 
> Five Hundred and Fifty Thousand Ryo = About 400 Quid. 
> 
> Content warnings in the endnotes, mostly violence.

Entering the administration building with the purpose of heading to the mission desk was strange; his legs wanted to walk him to the Hokage's office as muscle memory attempted to dictate his direction. He lived a lot of his life like that, following the patterns set by repetition, the minutiae of the day-to-day life of a stand by shinobi unworthy of note and therefore easily forgotten. Except, was it called forgetfulness if the memories were never made in the first place?

It started with small things, like the inability to recall if he'd brushed his teeth while he was able to confirm he had from the quality of his breath. He kept militant hygiene so that it would never interfere with his ability to track by sense of smell, all of his products unscented, a routine ingrained in him so thoroughly from years of use to the point that he didn’t think when he cleaned his face and applied antiperspirant. 

Perhaps this extension to the rest of his life was only natural progression as the rest of his days became enveloped by monotony. If Minato asked, Kakashi could say what he’d been up to, but from knowledge, not memory. Nothing he did was remarkable. 

It was either that or allow the awareness of how mundane everything was to bore him to death. 

However, now there was a change and he felt awake for it. He’d say ‘alive’ but it wasn’t that dramatic. Minato had told him to pick up a mission. 

He opened the door and his reflexes jolted him into action, catching the small form of a boy with one hand and an airborne empty coffee cup with the other, but the folder of papers flying into the air and decorating the office like misshapen winter festival decorations escaped his grasp. 

“Damn it, I’m so sorry, shinobi-san!” The boy’s words blended together and he bowed profusely before running to collect the papers and apologise to the rest of the shinobi in the room as he did so, garnering reactions ranging from mildly disgruntled to reluctantly amused. Kakashi watched, eyebrows raised, as the boy fixed the papers at an impressive level of proficiency and had them back inside of the folder neat as the moment they were first contained. 

Then, he stepped right up into Kakashi’s personal bubble (which was a mile in a diametre when he could feasibly maintain the distance, around fifteen centimetres when he couldn’t) and said, “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, shinobi-san, but I must be going now,” with all the authority that a ten-year-old (eleven? twelve? Kakashi’s perception of age was skewed from growing up alongside classmates that were three years older than him and then ANBU where age was not relevant to the tier of command) genin shouldn’t have and pushed passed him. 

Kakashi couldn’t fault the boy. He had been directly in his path. And, really, Kakashi could have sensed him through the door but he didn’t have his sharingan active and he had been excite- no, distracted, by the prospect of a mission. Thinking about it that way, it was his fault, he knew better. 

He watched the boy’s retreating back as he marched purposefully down the corridor, his high ponytail bouncing with his strides. Kakashi hadn’t caught much of his face with all of the bowing and rushing, but he’d seen the scar that ran across his nose. 

“I see you’ve met our little hellion of an intern, Iruka-kun,” the shinobi at the desk closest to the door said, shuffling his papers back in order. “He’s doing a spot of community service, some new punishment system for minor transgressions - they're saying the Hokage came up with it himself.”

“Ah,” Kakashi said, for lack of anything better to say. Did this shinobi not know him..? Kakashi didn’t think they had met, although the man was bland looking so who knew. He wasn’t as bad with names and faces as Gai but he didn’t make an effort to memorise the features of everyone he met either. Although, he did have a stockpile of faces burnt into his memory from his use of the sharingan during Minato’s meetings. 

Dithering at the door, he tried to rack his brain for how these interactions were supposed to go. It had been a long time since he’d had to pick up a mission from the desk, ANBU missions were handled with utmost secrecy and he’d spent his pre-ANBU days in the midst of a war where decorum was bypassed for speed and efficiency, sending teams out as quickly as possible with little fanfare. 

“What did he do?” He asked, buying time, but nothing was coming to him. Did he go up to the desk and ask for a mission? Or did he say hello first? Was there a specific desk that he was supposed to go to? Did he state his rank and name first or wait to be asked for his details?

“He messed up half of the shopping quarters storefronts so that they read out as puns and euphemisms,” the man sighed but not without a little fondness creeping into his voice, “so, name, Jounin?”

Oh, thank the Sage. “Kakashi Hatake.”

“Ah... of course,” the man said and there it was, the moment he realised who he was talking to. The realisation was a physical thing, it melted his features from amused to soured neutral like dripping paint. “I have precisely one mission that fits your profile, it’s a good thing you came to my desk, the requirements are very particular,” he didn’t say it like it was a good thing but whatever. The man handed him the scroll and that was all that he needed. 

Quicker than he’d like to admit, he left the room, closed the door behind him rather than let gravity pull it into place, and exhaled. Lingering outside the door to allow himself to settle his composure, he caught the beginnings of a conversation that urged him to pick up the pace. 

“Didn’t recognise him without that damn stolen sharingan.”

“Really? I knew the second he came in; he looks _exactly_ like the White Fang. I tried warning you, didn’t you see my hands? I was…”

He was turning the shower tap before he realised what he was doing and stepped back from behind the plain byobu. It made sense, he generally only returned to his apartment at the end of the day and initiated his evening routine. Showering always came first, he needed to get the day’s grime off of him and cool his muscles. Let himself succumb to the numb drumming of artificial rain against his scalp. 

Rin once said that he shouldn’t shower every day, that his hair would fall out prematurely if he did. He had asked how premature was prematurely. For some reason, she laughed and confessed that she didn’t know but threw out an estimation regardless. Fifty, she guessed. Kakashi didn’t expect to see fifty, so he didn’t really care. Rin had, though. And then she didn’t. 

Switching his mind from automatic to manual like gripping the reigns of a horse accustomed to travelling down the same road day after day, he redressed and sat on the windowsill, his preferred reading spot. Two battered and dog eared books lay inches from his tucked in feet on the ledge, _To Substitute a Corpse_ and _The Kunoichi in the Mirror_ , a hint of untidiness in his otherwise spartan apartment. 

Unfurling the scroll with one hand and shoving his forehead protector into his hair with the other, he memorised the details of his mission. An A-rank assassination, a simple meeting infiltration to take out a civilian target. The intel was detailed to a standard that would not satisfy ANBU but it didn’t appear that he was completing this mission on behalf of ANBU since he’d been the one to pick it out. Or at least, there had been the possibility that he would have been able to pick out this mission, in particular, had there been a selection available. 

Two guards, hired yu-nin. Yugakure… he hadn’t heard that name in a while. It was rare that he encountered hostile shinobi from Yugakure and rarer for them to take jobs outside of their borders, but not unheard of. The meeting was going to take place in two days at seven-thirty and the instructions relating to the method of assassination were sparse, the only guidelines being that he complete it without witnesses and to ensure that the other civilian did not become a casualty. So, not during the meeting. He had a lot to work with. 

A five hundred and fifty thousand ryo payout… he’d done more for less. A nice boost to the salary he had working for Minato at the desk which covered his rent just fine and the bare necessities which were all he needed but he was saving up to one day buy the place. Renting was dead money in his hands. Although, he wasn’t sure what he would do with the spare cash once he was no longer paying rent. 

He liked that he had a direction for his finances right now. He would have to find another one if he met his goal of homeownership. A bigger house? No, he didn’t like the idea of having empty rooms with nothing to fill them with. Too many blind spots. His current flat was a single room and a bathroom. From his position at the window, he could see all four corners. The lone kitchen counter, fridge, cupboard, cooker and sink to the right didn’t obstruct his view of the wall-to-ceiling closet where he kept his modest wardrobe, futon, weapons and mission supplies, and the little chabudai and zabuton didn’t cast shadows like the dining table at the Uzumaki residence. The bookshelf was the worst offender, clunky and thick enough to hide beside, but that was why he had tucked it into the corner and faced it towards the door. 

What else did people do with their money? Dad had set his aside, purposefully, for Kakashi. But Kakashi couldn’t imagine himself ever having children. There was a whole… process involved that he wasn’t sure he had the capacity for. Unless he changed his mind and chose to adopt? What would be the point, though? He likely wouldn’t be around to watch them grow up. 

Besides, anyone Kakashi drew that close into his life died. It was why he kept Gai at an arm's length and held onto what he did have of Minato steadfast and never asked for more than he was allowed. 

Two days and he would be a small bit closer to reaching his goal. Realistically, he wouldn’t be able to buy an apartment for several years, anyway, so he didn’t need to think about that right now. It might not even come to pass.

* * *

He heard Gai before he saw him, a scattering of early morning civilians heralded his arrival alongside the small stampeded of too-quick-to-track-with-the-naked-eye feet. That and the bellowed: “KAKASHIIIIII!”

Contrary to popular belief, Kakashi liked Gai. Not that the popular belief was unfounded, he understood how his and Gai’s relationship was different from others. Outside of Minato and Pakkun, Gai was his closest friend. It said something that he saw his closest friend maybe every other week and didn’t often spare a kind word for him. Sometimes he didn’t spare any words at all. Yet Gai persisted.

Inevitably, Kakashi’s reputation would catch up to him in one way or another. Either Gai would learn of his moniker or he would become another item on the list those who spread his name spouted in support of it. He couldn’t let the latter happen. But he couldn’t bring himself to hurt Gai so horribly that he wouldn’t seek him out anymore. Minor jabs and indifference hadn’t worked on him when he was five and Gai was seven, they certainly didn’t work now. It was almost ritual, Kakashi would say something harsh and Gai would twist it through youthful loops and hip turns until the cruelty wasn’t recognisable anymore. 

Kakashi was selfish like that. He’d rather play passenger than take the reins and steer them both off course. He couldn’t see the dead-end of the road yet, but he was sure life would unexpectedly make a swift turn around a corner and they would crash. But he still wouldn’t take the reins. Selfish. 

“I’m about to head out for a mission, get lost,” he said once the dust settled after Gai flipped onto the scene with a one-handed cartwheel that evolved into a backflip and then a jumping jack. Nevermind that Kakashi could have carried on walking to the gates instead of stopping to watch the performance, the point wasn’t to match his words to his actions perfectly, nor was it to create dissonance. He took the time to dismiss Gai and allow him to respond and accept the rejection. 

“So you are back in the field, my rival! Of course, nothing could keep your youthful tenacity constrained to the village! I wish for your mission to be challenging but rewarding, do your best!” Gai finished his speech with a dorky thumbs up that threatened to make Kakashi let loose a giggle, or an approximation of a giggle. Something light and bubbly that didn’t belong in his throat, either way.

“I always do my best,” he tried to scowl at Gai but he got the impression it came across more as confused, what with his narrowed eye and an eyebrow that refused to be downturned in anger. Choosing to gloss over his half-formed bluff, he turned sharply away from Gai and strode towards the gate, “I’m going now.”

Gai said something or other as a goodbye, overly joyous and encouraging sounding and seemingly never-ending. Kakashi let the stream of words carry him to the gate and outside of Konoha’s walls until Gai’s shouts faded into the distance and the early morning chill bled into his focus.

* * *

Between the beams of a private tea room’s wagoya, Kakashi’s body drew a line along the wood, swathed in black and melting into the darkness the candles below couldn’t reach. He was alone in all the ways it mattered, discounting the quiet companionship of several spiders and three moths, two of which were both chasing the third in a race to mate. 

Directly two and a half feet from where his gloved fingers curled around his primary support beam, he had a bird's eye view of the peak of his target’s elaborate updo, one Lady Aguri Harada. Warm yellow softly garnished the wax of her styling, the candles set on the table and the sconces illuminating both her and the other woman in the room, Lady Fude Nakano, their tailored kimonos shimmering in the light. The thought did cross Kakashi’s mind to make off with the target’s obviously expensive clothing once she was dead but it was a fleeting fancy he didn’t give any serious consideration. 

Although he couldn’t go ahead and take her out during the meeting, he had gleaned some useful information. The meeting would end soon, Lady Nakano had commented on the target’s complexion with what Kakashi concluded was a veiled insult judging by the sour response she received. Throughout the meeting the power dynamic had been clear, Lady Nakano was quick-witted and slighted the target at every available turn until she was discouraged from speaking much at all. This observation conflicted with the intel that stated that the target was of a higher station than her. He let the minor confusion slide, it wasn’t relevant to his job. Kakashi didn’t claim to understand the intricacies of regular social interaction, nevermind the complexities of noble relations. 

As predicted, the target excused herself and Lady Nakano ‘graciously’ called the meeting to an end with a saccharine promise to see each other again. The matter of the meeting was unresolved, the target held steadfast in the face of Lady Nakano’s propositions and refused to compromise. Kakashi supposed he was going to be the one to provide the resolution since deals couldn’t be made with the dead. 

Slipping through the ranma while Lady Nakano was turned away from the briefly spilt evening light, he followed the target out into the modest roji and hid in the shadow cast by the bamboo awning. A laid-out series of round stepping stones drew a path along grass that was due for a trim but not quite overdue, reaching its conclusion at the simple wooden archway that marked the bounds of the roji. 

The exterior of the tea house wasn’t the sort of luxurious establishment that came to mind when imagining parleys between nobles, but the inside met every expectation. Unassuming to outsiders. Perfect for covert discussions. Hardly the first place Kakashi would have looked at for either of the people he had observed today. 

As she gathered her composure in the light of the setting sun, the target didn’t appear to notice that anything was amiss. Kakashi hadn’t thought she would which was why he had been brazen with his preparations. Dealing with the two yu-nin guards had been the first step of the plan, he took them out when the meeting began. He would have liked to have been told about Lady Nakano’s guards but they were content to look the other way. Of course, he profiled them first and was ready to remove them if the situation changed. 

As soon as the target stepped out of the private tea room, the guards should have been by her side. The target should have known this, too, but it appeared that the meeting was distracting her. She huffed and looked to the heavens as if praying for temperance before stomping her geta once and muttering a dainty expletive. Terribly uncouth by noble standards he was sure, internally snickering as he thought of how the small outburst would be judged by high society, and nothing in the eyes of shinobi. Kakashi knew enough curses to make the gruffest of civilians blush by the time he was six. _Who raised you to act like that? The military._

His tentatively light mood was torn from him as two things went very wrong at the same time. 

One: three shinobi with yugakure insignia body flickered into the roji, one holding a kunai to Lady Nakano’s pale throat. 

Two: Lady Nakano’s guards burst out from the tea house and took the target hostage. 

A standstill commenced. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

Shouting ensued and Kakashi immediately relegated it to the background of his thoughts, eyes flitting from each person on the field and his mind whirring as he improvised a new route and threw his plan away. If it wasn’t for the necessity of Lady Nakano’s continued life as the scroll outlined her death would void the mission, he would simply throw kunai at the target’s vital points while the shinobi were distracted and vacate the area. 

If he did that, the yu-nin would follow through on their threats and slit Lady Nakano’s throat.

If he killed the yu-nin, he would be seen. He assumed the guards and Lady Nakano knew about his mission but he hadn’t been told who made the commission. Although, Lady Nakano had to live but she didn’t have to see-

A scream rang out and _another yu-nin_ bowled out of the building, the owner of the tea house scrabbling uselessly at his arms as he threw her to the ground before him, foot slamming onto her spine to keep her in place and kunai pointed at her with clear intent. Lady Nakano shouted what must have been the woman’s name and her guards tensed. She was important to them, she was probably more than the simple tea house owner he had first assumed she’d been. 

Actions and outcomes flashed in Kakashi’s mind as he scanned the ever-complicating scene for the best way forward. The tea room woman’s life was inconsequential to the mission but she wasn’t supposed to die. Wouldn’t have even come close to it if Kakashi had gotten this right. 

There were no other viable options, he had to kill all the yu-nin.

With a precision honed from the very minute he’d been able to throw a kunai at age two, Kakashi threw a paper smoke bomb directly into Lady Nakano’s eyes, its arc unnoticed in the chaos. Deep purple enveloped her and the two closest yu-nin.

Darting from the shadows, he slid underneath the newest yu-nin, took out his feet from beneath him and struck the back of his neck with a kunai as he folded backwards onto him. Hair splattered, Kakashi rolled out from beneath the gurgling nin before his body hit the floor, blaring red sharingan presenting the world almost in slow motion as flickers of the future set over the present in double sight. 

A shuriken flew from his other hand before he finished his roll, lodging itself in the next yu-nin’s ankle before he had time to react to the smoke bomb and downed comrade. He jumped with a shout and spun to face the line of trajectory but he was too late, Kakashi was a hair’s breadth from the yu-nin’s face and fire left his lips, sharingan branding the fatal searing of flesh onto the walls of his mind. 

He grabbed the eviscerated man’s shoulder and launched himself into the air as his body went limp, brought his knees to his chin and then shot his legs forward onto the chest of the man holding Lady Nakano, thrusting him a yard behind her. 

Future sight showered him in a blast of scalding water he couldn’t feel and he ducked to avoid the real thing. The fourth yu-nin advanced from his flank, following her water jutsu, hand signs flashing. Kakashi jumped, avoided the next bout of hot water, formed his own hand signs, and hurled himself at the downed shinobi with a blast of wind release. 

Metal sank into another vulnerable throat, blood spurting riotously. Kakashi flipped backwards from his straddle over the dying shinobi and tracked his final opponent's hands upside down. Water Cannon Jutsu added to his sharingan’s collection, his hands shot forwards and crunched the kunoichi's fingers milliseconds before the final seal reached completion.

Eyes alight with dawning horror, she tried to dodge. A thousand screeching birds reached her ears just as the light in her eyes went out, her heart an empty cavern. She fell with a dull thud. 

Silence.

Except, it wasn't quiet at all. His breath was loud, gasping in the chambers of his lungs. Three civilians were whimpering. Fizzles sprung from the shivering discharges that followed his chidori. Lady Nakano’s guards’ armour plates shifted as they eyed him warily. 

“... That’s a Konoha symbol,” one of them said, a tremble under his voice betraying the confidence of his words, “why is a Konoha shinobi interfering with Nakano business?”

Shit. They didn’t know. Weren’t supposed to know. 

He should have just assumed. Killed them in the same flurry he killed the yu-nin with. 

His momentum had peaked. Adrenaline was sapping at his muscles. 

Mix-matched red and grey met the two guards’ eyes and an awful recognition registered on the left one’s face. 

“One sharingan - in the bingo book, there’s a man with one sharingan, I thought he was older but-”

Kakashi didn’t let him finish his sentence. Three shuriken spread wideout from his fist. Right guard threw himself and Lady Nakano to the ground. Left guard deflected the shuriken on reflex alone, surprise painted on his features. He unsheathed a tanto and Kakashi did the same, but the man was hampered by his unpreparedness where Kakashi was not. 

With a metal scream and a self-taught flick from Kakashi’s tanto, the man was disarmed and a solid kick to the abdomen had him keeling over. It was almost too easy to slide his blade between the plates of his light armour and through his chest. 

Kakashi didn’t get the chance to retrieve his tanto. Fire flared up his sandals, burning rubber assaulting his nose, and he jumped at the pain. The final guard was upon him, Lady Nakano sequestered away by the side of the tea house owner. 

The guard's hand seals were quick and his eyes were steel. Identical copies of the man surrounded Kakashi at the points of a compass, hot in their proximity. When they burst, Kakashi knew flames would follow. 

He charged at the original, lightning shrieking, ringing in his ears. The man was fast but he wasn’t faster than chidori. He was dead before Kakashi ripped his arm from his chest. 

The clones followed their creator. But with far more dramatics. 

A torrent of fire ripped across the roji as all three clones burst and Kakashi had a choice to make. It wasn’t a very hard one. 

Roiling flames licked at the already melted soles of his sandals, as loud as they were hot, but they did not touch him as he grabbed Lady Nakano and ran from the path of destruction. Red consumed the garden and then the house, disappearing the higher it reached as the flames matched the hue of the sky.

He set Lady Nakano at the base of a tree with a glare to tell her to remain put but he didn’t expect her to be any trouble, limp with shock as she was. 

As he doused the flames to reveal the burnt husks of those he had killed as well as the two he had not, a single thought commandeered his mind: _I fucked up._

He was not consoled when he found the sword-wielding guard clinging onto life, damp from a suiton he must have used to prolong his dwindling existence during the fire. Helpless, the man gripped Kakashi’s hands weakly when he moved to draw his tanto from his chest. However, he did not beg for mercy. At least, not for himself. 

“Lady Nakano,” he wheezed, blood bubbling from his lips, “please tell me you didn’t kill her.”

Red water dripped from the tips of his grey hair and onto the man's cheek, rolling down his face in mockery of a tear. This close, Kakashi could see the light scar above his brow. A tattoo peeked from beneath the neck of his under armour, black dotted lines that probably meant something. His eyes were an unremarkable shade of brown, but he knew he would remember them whether he wanted to or not. He was very... human. 

“I didn’t.”

Kakashi pulled the tanto from his chest. The man didn't say anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: A number of people are killed, blood etc. mostly canon typical violence, I think.
> 
> \---
> 
> When giving advice for writing action, the general rule is to use the sentence and paragraph structure to reflect the pace of the action. This is something which I agree with. However, this is a special case. I wanted to create this idea that while Kakashi is moving fast, he is processing at a speed that is at odds with the time passing around him. I'm not sure if the effect was achieved but I tried. 
> 
> Also, a note on the part where he finds himself at home and turning the tap. It is intentionally jarring, I wanted to demonstrate the loss of time described at the start of the chapter. He went home on auto-pilot, retreating away from reality because of the gossiping desk shinobi, and initiated his nightly routine because that's what usually followed when he comes home. I'm not sure how well I conveyed that, though. 
> 
> I have more thoughts but I'm not overly fond of clunky endnotes (well, clunky-er, I suppose) but I'll probably end up discussing them on either my main or my side blog tumblr depending on how much detail etc. I go into. 
> 
> Thank you for the support, the comments and the kudos are working wonders for my motivation and it's always lovely to hear feedback about the things I care about.

**Author's Note:**

> Important Notes About This Fic  
> While I have planned the contents of this instalment down to each chapter, I don't have a complete idea of all the content warnings that I'll need to tag. I had planned on completing Part One first and then uploading but I got impatient. So the tags will most likely be updated. I will also list chapter-specific content warnings in the endnotes. 
> 
> There is no update schedule but you can find me on [tumblr](http://drdiabolical.tumblr.com) where I post [excerpts](https://drdiabolical.tumblr.com/tagged/excerpt) and [updates](https://drdiabolical.tumblr.com/tagged/update) on what I am writing. I also accept [writing prompts.](https://drdiabolical.carrd.co/#s02)
> 
> Happy reading and let me know if I need to tag more warnings :)


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